What a Mother Leaves Behind
by Ridley C. James
Summary: The boys struggle through another Mother's Day, and with the help of Pastor Jim learn that love has a way of surviving long after a person is gone.
1. Chapter 1

What a Mother Leaves Behind

By: Ridley C. James

Beta: Tidia

A/N: This story goes along with my other 'Mother's Day Stories' _What Mom's Do_, and _What My Mom Gave to Me_. They both can be found at our homepage Thehunterstomb. Obviously, I'm a sucker for this holiday. This may be getting redundant and it might be my last one in this series, making it a complete trilogy. There's only so many times I can use this scenario and you guys not get bored with it. gr I hope all those moms and surrogate moms out there enjoy. This is also for Katie and kids , some very special readers. And Mr. Reynolds was based on a vice principal very dear to my own heart.

RCJ

"To live in the hearts we leave behind is not to die."-Clyde Cambell

Caleb Reaves entered the small room, his heart quickened and his palms began to sweat. The cheerful blue paint and wall paper with the cute puppies and kittens frolicking about wasn't fooling him for a minute. A principal's office was never a good time. They could coat the place with cotton candy, pass out sugar cubes on a stick and Caleb would still rather have his teeth pulled by a demonic dentist than enter the den of doom for all little children.

"May I help you?"

The old gal was smiling sweetly, but Caleb had no problem seeing past the perfected mask to the heart of a sadist. Her glossy nameplate with the sunny flowers might have said Shirley, but Caleb new her true name -- Hell's Gatekeeper. He cleared his throat. "I'm here to see Mr. Reynolds."

Shirley checked her planner and glanced up with a knowing grin. "You must be his eleven o'clock. Mr. Winchester, is it?"

"Yeah." Caleb would never forgive Pastor Jim for making him come. So what if the cleric was hosting a bedside vigil for a parishioner. At twenty, Caleb was supposed to be safe in college from such persecution. "I was asked to be here as soon as possible."

Shirley nodded robotically, pod-person smile still in place. "I'll let him know you're here." She pointed her bony finger to a row of chairs. "You can have a seat over there."

Caleb swallowed thickly and made his way towards the bright yellow seats. A little girl with golden blond curls and doe-like eyes had already claimed one, her sandaled-feet dangling above the floor. She grinned crookedly, swinging her legs back and forth. Caleb took the chair three seats over.

"Hi. I'm Katie."

"Caleb," the hunter said, annoyed the distance hadn't deterred a conversation. He fidgeted in the uncomfortable chair looking for a magazine or book to take his mind off his surroundings, and dissuade any further communication with the natives.

"What are you here for? Are you from the high school?"

Caleb jumped when the small voice came from much closer this time. Katie had slid herself into the chair next to him with all the stealth of a spirit. "No," he replied. "I'm in college." Apparently the kid had no clue about social cues. He bit back on his instinctive reply and forced a tight grin. "And I'm here to see the principal."

"Me too," Katie said. "I'm a witness."

Caleb arched a brow. "A witness?"

"Yeah. I witnessed a crime. Like in Matlock." The little girl held up a piece of folded construction paper. "I have something important that could break the case wide open."

Caleb thought Katie watched too much television. "Right."

Katie shifted, turning towards the hunter. She brought her feet up, sitting cross-legged in the chair. "I'm in the second grade, Miss Karen's room and two boys in my class got into a big fight." She didn't need any encouragement from Caleb as she launched into elaborate detail. "They were calling each other names-Gregory even said a four-letter word. Then they started pushing and shoving, and one of them punched the other one right in the nose. Splat! Blood went everywhere." Katie's eyes widened as she flailed her arms wide in a sweeping motion. "I even got some on my Beauty and the Beast shirt. See?"

Caleb looked down to where the little girl was pointing to the picture of Belle on her pink tee. There were a few tiny rust-colored specks. The psychic recognized the cartoon because he'd been duped into taking Sam to the movie last year for his birthday. Kind of the same way he'd been tricked into coming to Sweet Oaks Presidential School today. "Soak it in Clorox and cold water, kid. It'll come out. Trust me."

Katie shrugged. "Okay." She twirled the bracelets on her arm. "I wasn't scared, you know."

Caleb looked longingly up at the clock on the wall. "You don't say?"

"Gregory picks on a lot of us kids because he's bigger and thinks he's so great just because he's ten already and his Daddy drives a pig."

Caleb frowned. "You mean a hog?"

"That too," Katie agreed. "I call it a motorcycle, but my Mom calls them death traps and she won't let my daddy have one."

"I see."

"I'm eight," Katie added. "I haven't been held back in school like Gregory."

"That's good to know."

"You know what else?"

Caleb couldn't help himself. "What?"

"Gregory cried like a baby."

Caleb gave her a knowing nod. "Bullies are usually big sissies on the inside. If this Greg was picking on you, he probably needed to be brought down a notch or two."

Katie's smile widened and she scooted closer. "Do you have a girlfriend in college?"

"Mr. Winchester," Shirley called, ringing a little silver bell on her desk. "Mr. Reynolds will see you now."

"Great." He stood quickly, accepting his fate. "Catch you later, Katie."

Mr. Reynolds office held no cats or dogs, and was lacking in the flowers and happy birds. Instead there was sparse décor punctuated by plaques, diplomas, a framed collage of baseball cards, and the huge wooden paddle.

"It's mostly a deterrent." Mr. Reynolds stood, gesturing to the instrument of torture Caleb was staring at. "Like an unmanned police car."

Caleb blinked, glanced suspiciously at the hand being offered in greeting across the cluttered oak desk. "That was never my experience," he said. Returning the firm grip, Caleb took a seat in one of the leather chairs. "Deterrents didn't seem to work for me." Growing up in rural Louisiana had left him a little jaded towards the public school system and corporal punishment. But even after moving in with Mackland and attending the elite private schools, Caleb found the more politically correct reprimands of detention and in school suspension just as distasteful.

"I hear that." Mr. Reynolds laughed. He was about Mac's age, around the same height with a little more mass and a little less hair. Caleb surmised it was the stress of the job, which was humorous because his father's jobs of neurosurgeon and one third of the leadership of a secret organization bent on saving the world from an unknown fate, should have trumped the warden of kiddie prison. "That paddle was given to me by one of my former teachers. I think Ms. Tally used it on me daily and when she heard I was coming back to work in this system, it was her way of saying welcome to my world."

"All you need now is a bullwhip and chair."

Caleb was only half kidding, but Reynolds laughed again. "I see Sam gets his humor from you."

"Sam?" Caleb raised a brow. "I thought this meeting was about Dean?" Jim hadn't filled him in on all the details, telling him only that he needed to go the boys' school immediately, meet with the principal and then bring Sam and Dean to the farm for the long weekend. Caleb had assumed the most likely culprit was John's eldest.

Reynolds glanced down at a yellow legal pad in front of him. "No. This concerns your younger nephew, Samuel. Dean is in the seventh grade. Middle school discipline is usually handled by another vice-principal, Mr. Wheeler."

Suddenly the conversation with Katie was becoming a lot more relevant. "Did Sammy get into a fight?"

Reynolds glanced up. "He did."

"Is he alright?" It wasn't like Sam. He glanced to the paddle again. "You didn't punish him did you?" The idea of Dean being in trouble was bad enough, but in Caleb's eyes Sam was just a baby.

"No." Reynolds shook his head. "I try to get all the facts of a story before passing judgment. Sam has yet to tell me exactly why he punched Greg in the nose, so I'm giving him a little time to process. He pointed to a door off to the side of his office. "He's in time out."

The term 'time out' might not have been coined back in his day, but Caleb recalled spending his share of time 'processing' a bad decision. It was usually the authority's way of saying 'when you're ready to tell me what I want to hear you can come out'. "Word on the street is that this Gregory is a real piece of work."

Reynolds smiled, leaned back in his seat. "I see you've been talking to Katie. She thinks Sam is the next best thing since detective shows."

Caleb shrugged. "I know Sam. He's about as aggressive as a bunny."

"Sam's teacher, Ms. Karen seemed to have the same opinion. She praises your nephew's work since coming here last month. He's in her gifted reading program and seems to be thriving in the new environment."

"Then that should tell you something about your boy Greg."

"I know all about Gregory, Mr. Winchester. I just need for Sam to give me his side of the story. Greg's singing a completely different tune than Katie. He claims Sam punched him because Gregory said a picture Sam drew was stupid. Although that's rude and definitely not behavior we encourage here at Sweet Oaks, it doesn't warrant an act of violence. You can understand my concern that Sam took such drastic measures."

Caleb refrained from rolling his eyes at the familiar diatribe. He'd heard so many similar speeches concerning his own 'drastic measures' and acts of violence while in school that it was hard to remain objective, especially where Sam was concerned. No one at school ever seemed to care to listen to Caleb's side of the story back then, but he would make damn sure Sam was heard. "Can I talk to him?"

Reynolds pushed his chair back and stood. "It's why I called. When I couldn't reach Sam's father, I used the emergency contact number we'd been given. Jim Murphy explained you are the boys' uncle and were close by."

"Yeah. John works construction. It's not always easy to reach him on site."

"I'm just glad someone came. It's important for the school and family to work together."

"You bet." Caleb recalled previous times when he'd had to play the 'Uncle Caleb' card to keep John's ass under the radar. "I'll do what I can."

The principal gestured to the door. "Take your time. I'll speak with Katie again. It appears Nancy Drew has uncovered some new evidence."

Caleb opened the door and stepped into the small conference room. Sam was sitting at a long table with his head down. "Hey, Runt."

Sam's head snapped up. "Caleb." He blinked, rubbing at his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Apparently even eight-year-old thugs have a right to representation." Caleb made his way around the table, stopping in front of the little boy. "Unfortunately, I'm the only lawyer available to take the case."

Sam stood up and wrapped his arms around Caleb's waist. "I'm glad you're here." He maintained his grip, but raised his eyes to gaze up at the older boy. "I was afraid Daddy would come."

Caleb ruffled his hair with a grin. He could understand that healthy fear. "Johnny's not big on the whole making a scene at school, Rocky."

Sam sighed, letting him go before sinking into his chair once more. "He's going to be really mad."

"Only if he knows." Caleb claimed one of the seats facing Sam. "We'll see what we can do to keep it on the down low. Lawyer-client confidentiality, you know."

Sam shrugged. "I guess."

Caleb took a moment to look the little boy over. There weren't any marks on him. His shirt had taken the brunt of it. Unlike Katie's, Sam's yellow tee was covered in dried blood. He pointed to the mess and then flicked Sam's nose when the kid looked down. "You must have really nailed Gregory with a good one. You taking a page out of your big brother's book, or what?"

Another shrug. "I guess."

Caleb reached out and lifted Sam's chin. "I need for you to talk to me. How else am I going to save you from the chair?" Or the wooden deterrent on Mr. Reynolds's wall.

"But you'll tell."

"I told you we could try to keep your old man out of it."

"Not Daddy. Dean."

"Dean? You don't want Dean to know?" Not telling John was one thing, but keeping Deuce out of the loop was a different story. The kid had a sixth sense when it came to his role of the runt's protector.

Sam nodded. "It would make him sad and I don't want to make him sadder than he already is. He would think it was his fault."

"Okay." Caleb took the easy way out. "Then I won't tell him."

Sam's brow furrowed. "But Dean said you're his best friend. Best friends don't keep secrets."

Caleb sighed. Sam logic was littered with pitfalls. "Dude, I think you've got it all wrong. Deuce won't be sad about this. Trust me. He'll be pretty damn pleased when he finds out you took your buddy Greg out with one shot. From what Katie said, the beast deserved what he got."

Sam sat back in surprise. "You know Katie?"

Caleb shook his head. "It's a long story. One I'm not going to share with you unless you share yours with me." The psychic waited for Sam to look at him. "I could always read you…"

Sam frowned. "But Pastor Jim says…"

Caleb held up his hand cutting off the familiar scolding. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know what Jim says and I didn't say I was going to only that I could. I'd rather you tell me yourself, but I'm not letting you take the fall for something that I know wasn't your fault."

"I did hit him." Sam pointed to his fist where his knuckles were red and slightly swollen. "Hard and fast. Just like Dean showed me."

"I believe you. But I know it had to have been for a good reason. Mr. Reynolds said something about Greg saying your picture was stupid."

Sam brought his hand to his mouth, chewing on the side of his thumb. "It was a card."

Caleb reached up and pulled the little boy's hand away. "What kind of card?"

Sam started to shrug again but Caleb gripped both his shoulders, holding him in place. "Talk to me, Runt. What was on the card?"

"A picture of my family."

"And?" Caleb prompted.

"I drew me, Dean, Daddy and the Impala."

Caleb squeezed the little boy's shoulder. "And what did Gregory think was so stupid about that? Lots of families have pets. The Chevy is like Atticus Finch minus the fleas and doggy breath."

"He wasn't laughing at the Impala."

"Then what?"

Sam looked up; bit his bottom lip as his watered. "I…"

Caleb's chest tightened. Jim was so going to owe him. "Sammy?"

"I put Mommy up in the sky…with wings because she's an angel watching over us."

And it all suddenly made perfect sense. Shit. Caleb ran a hand over his mouth. "Sam…"

"This weekend is Mother's Day, and the teacher wanted us to draw a picture of our family. She didn't say we had to put our mom in it, but I thought I should, since it's her day. All the other kids had pictures of their families. I wanted to make something for her. She's still my mom," Sam's voice dropped, "even if she is dead."

"And this Greg kid decided to give you a hard time about your picture?"

Sam nodded. "He said I must have been a really bad kid if my mom left me. I told him my mom didn't want to leave, but that she died in a fire and he said I probably caused it."

"Greg sucks," Caleb interrupted. "And you know you had nothing to do with what happened to your Mom. Right?"

"Yeah." Sam swallowed. "That's what I told him. But then he said Mom must have done something really bad to get burned up like that and that there was no way she could be an angel. He said only good people went to Heaven and that God must really hate us." Sam rubbed his cheek with his fist. "He said Mom was in the _other_ place."

Caleb clenched his jaw, wondering where Sam's teacher was when all this took place. "And that's when you hit him?"

"No." Sam shook his head. "I hit him when he said my punk-ass brother was probably going there too."

Caleb held back on the 'good for you.' Pastor Jim trusted him to be the adult in the situation. "Gregory sure does have quite the vocabulary for a second-grader."

"He's supposed to be in fourth, but he's not very bright. His brother is in the seventh grade and he's almost as old as you."

Caleb twisted the silver ring on his finger, trying to find his 'inner Jim. "I get why you were mad, Sammy, but reacting the way you did isn't always the best option especially when you're at school. Maybe you should have told your teacher…"

"What would you have done?"

Caleb squirmed under the intense scrutiny. Sam was staring at him all wide-eyed and expectant. "It doesn't matter what I would have done, Einstein. I'm not you, and John Winchester isn't my dad. Understand?"

"Dean said Daddy had to get you out of jail once for fighting."

"Exactly." Caleb jumped on the chance to use some Jim Murphy logic. "You don't want to end up in prison do you? That would put a crimp in your career as a police officer."

"I don't want to be a police officer anymore. I want to be a veterinarian."

"News flash, Runt. Not a lot of call for animal doctors in the big house. Your giant sponge brain would shrivel to a tiny stone."

Sam folded his arms over his chest. "But I didn't like him talking bad about Dean."

"I get that... It's a brother thing. Really, I do. . I don't want anyone talking bad about you or Dean, but you just can't go around punching everybody that makes you mad" At least that was what Mac was always saying. "Why didn't you tell Mr. Reynolds what Gregory said about your picture?"

"If Dean finds out, he'll be upset. I know he told Ms. Karen I didn't have a mom so this wouldn't happen. She changed the assignment for me, but I didn't mind doing it."

"He's just trying to make it easier for you."

"I know." Sam let his arms fall to his side. "But I wish he would talk about her. Sometimes I think Dean doesn't want me to think about her, or even remember her. It's like I never had a mom."

"That's not true. Talking about her is just hard for him." Caleb understood all too well. He had the same problem and he'd had years longer to deal with his mother's death. And he knew Dean wanted to spare Sam that kind of pain. "You know there was this one time when you were just a baby, we're talking barely out of diapers baby, and I found Dean in Jim's attic. He was looking through your Dad's old things for a picture of your mom because he wanted to make sure you had one, so you'd never forget who she was."

Sam perked up. "Really? He never showed it to me."

Caleb licked his lips. He suspected as he did at the time that Dean wanted the picture for himself as well. It would explain how upset Deuce had been. Caleb remembered his own feelings of panic when he stopped being able to easily recall the way his mother looked, the curve of her smile, and the sound of her laughter. "Have you asked him?"

"No." Sam sighed. "I was afraid he'd get mad, like Daddy does when I ask questions about what happened to her."

"I don't think Dean will get mad at you. He's just trying to protect you, Kiddo."

"Because that's what brother's do?"

"Yeah. It is."

Before Sam could reply, Mr. Reynolds opened the door. He had a two-way radio in his hand and motioned for Caleb to follow him. "Mr. Winchester, I have a situation in F-pod that I could use your assistance with."

Caleb's brows drew together. "Me?"

"Dean's class is in F-pod," Sam said.

"Great." Caleb knew a harmless bloodied nose was too simple for the Winchesters. He reached out telepathically to Dean, instantly sensing the anger and adrenaline rush the older boy was experiencing. He pointed his finger at the second grader. "Stay put, Sammy." Caleb saw the protest building and added, "That's an order."

Mr. Reynolds quickly strode out of the office, Caleb on his heels. They had barely made it out the door when a giant of a man in a cheap business suit came barreling towards them, a chubby blond boy with a buzz cut held firmly in tow. The kid was holding an icepack to his nose. "Reynolds! What the hell kind of school are you running here? I can't be taking off work at the drop of a hat and my boy…"

Reynolds held up a hand to cut him off, only slowing his pace slightly. "Levi, I told you what happened on the phone. I have more pressing matters at hand right now and so do you. Follow me."

"What matters?" Levi demanded, keeping pace with Caleb, dragging the kid behind him. They followed the principal through a tunnel like hallway that opened up into another set of classrooms.

"You're other son." Reynolds gestured to a set of wooden doors, glancing to Caleb. "They're in the cafeteria."

Caleb didn't wait for Reynolds to lead the way as he stormed into the crowded lunch room. Kids parted like the Red Sea, opening a straight shot to the two boys rolling around on the linoleum floor. A young teacher was yelling at the teens to stop while a gray haired lady in a pair of scrubs and a hairnet, waving a pair of metal tongs, repeatedly blew her whistle.

"Break it up! Now!" Reynolds barked. The small cafeteria went completely silent except for the fight, which only seemed to escalate. The striking of flesh against flesh reverberated as Dean continued to pound on a larger boy pinned beneath him.

Caleb moved past the teacher hovering on the outskirts of the fray. He grabbed Dean from behind and hauled him up and off of the other boy. Dean struggled, trying to twist out of Caleb's grip. "Deuce! Stop."

Dean was breathing hard, still caught up in the moment. Caleb wasn't sure if his voice had registered, so he pulled him back a few more steps before loosening his hold. "That's enough. It's over." He gave him a hard shake then leaned in closer, pulling Dean's back against his chest. "Deuce. Shake it off."

"Caleb?"

"It's me." Caleb released him.

Dean spun around to face him, wiping the back of his hand under his bleeding nose. "What…how did you get here?"

"Pastor Jim sent me."

"Is Dad okay?"

"John's fine. I came about Sam."

Dean pointed to the other boy, currently being helped off the floor by his father and Mr. Reynolds. "Was that son of a bitch telling the truth? Did his little brother do something to Sam?"

"Sammy's fine." Caleb placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, jutting his chin to the smaller child still holding the ice to his face. "But I'm guessing Gregory's going to be nursing two black eyes in the morning thanks to that right jab you coached the runt on."

"Sam hit somebody?"

"Imagine that." Caleb snorted at the look of surprise on the teen's face. He reached out and gingerly touched the small cut above Dean's eye. "A Winchester with a temper."

Dean hissed, swatting his hand away. "Is he in trouble?"

"Not as much trouble as you're in, Mr. Winchester. If I have anything to do with it, you're going to learn how we handle attitudes like yours in Sweet Oaks." The gray haired woman with the whistle moved in front of Dean. "I'm not having hooligan boys tearing up my cafeteria, trashing food that my staff has worked all morning preparing."

"Not like it's fit for anything else," Dean muttered.

The old woman's face reddened further and she poked her tongs at the boy. "What did you say, young man?"

Caleb pulled Dean away from the irate cafeteria manager. "Easy there, Betty Crocker."

"Excuse me? Who are you?"

"Stella, why don't you try to get things back to normal in the kitchen?" Mr. Reynolds stepped forward. He glanced to the students now sitting quietly at the long tables, their teacher looming over them. Caleb couldn't help but to think now would have been an appropriate time for the whip and the chair he'd mentioned earlier. "We have some hungry kids out here."

She pointed the tongs at Dean once more and Caleb resisted the urge to tell her exactly where she could stick the kitchen utensils. "When Mr. Wheeler gets back on Monday you'll be in for a world of trouble then."

"I can't wait," Dean said.

Caleb clipped the boy on the back of the head. "No more talking."

"That sounds like good advice, son," Reynolds said. "I think your mouth is what got you into this mess."

"It wasn't me," Dean countered. He jerked his head towards the other boy. "Cory's the one who doesn't know when to shut his pie hole. He was asking for everything he got."

"My son says differently." Caleb tensed as the muscle bound gorilla in the bad suit lumbered towards them, Cory skulking behind him. The other teen was taller than Dean by nearly a foot and probably outweighed him by forty pounds. But the way he kept his head down and stayed his distance, spoke to how little those stats had helped him in the fight. "And he's been here a hell of a lot longer than you, kid."

"Watch your language, Levi," Reynolds said. "Why don't you take Cory to the nurse and we…"

"Doesn't mean he's telling the truth." Caleb couldn't help himself. He moved in front of Dean. "Just means he probably knows who he can snow."

"You calling my boy a liar?" Levi puffed out his chest, the buttons of his polyester shirt threatening to pop off as the man's bulk bulged beneath the thinly stretched material.

Caleb smirked. "I was merely pointing out your faulty logic."

"Maybe I should point out a few things to you. Like the fact that punk hit my boy from behind, took cowardly advantage."

"No, I didn't!" Dean started forward, but Caleb caught his arm. "I hit the hulk square in the face."

Levi jabbed a meaty finger at Dean. "You heard him, Reynolds. He admits to hitting my kid."

"And what did your kid do?" Caleb asked. Dean didn't need to take any unfair advantage with some overgrown delinquent. In fact, Caleb was confident the teen could have taken Cory's old man out without much effort.

Dean shook his head. "He said something about Sammy." Caleb sighed at the stubborn look. He reached out telepathically touching Dean's thoughts. He knew the teen wouldn't tell him in front of the others, but Deuce's memory was an open book. Caleb's own anger flared at the cruelty of the other boy's words.

"Name calling?" Levi let out a bark of laughter, pointing to his youngest son who was standing off to the side still nursing his busted nose. "That sounds like second-grade stuff."

Caleb moved his hand to Dean's shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze before cutting his heated gaze to Levi. "Do you really want to bring intelligence into this? From what I hear, you're not really raising a couple of academic over achievers."

"Gentlemen," Reynolds started. "Let's take this back to my office where we can…"

"My sons are none of your concern, boy."

Caleb let go of Dean and took a menacing step towards Cory's father. "When they mess with my family they are."

"Mr. Winchester!" Reynolds snapped. "Please take Dean back to my office. Now."

Caleb looked at the principal, felt the stares of the other students and their teacher. It wasn't the place or time to deal with the ignorant bastard. Wasn't he the one preaching to Sammy about controlling his anger, about knowing how and where to pick your battles? He raised a hand in truce. "Whatever you say, Sir. You're in charge."

Caleb turned, guiding Dean along with him. He had every intention to walk away, until he heard Levi's rumbling laugh.

"And that boys is a lesson in why we shoot the bitch when you get a bad litter of pups. The blood always tells."

The last thing Caleb remembered before he blanked out in a white hot fury was the sound of Dean saying his name.

_RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ_.

A/N: I referred to an event in a very sweet story by Winchesterwannabe called 'I Miss My Mom'. She graciously allowed me to use a snippit. Thank you.


	2. Chapter 2

What a Mother Leaves Behind

Beta: Tidia

A/N: Thanks so much for the reviews on the first chapter. I'm sorry I left the impression it was a one-shot, but your enthusiasm ushered me to post sooner. And Tidia's quick beta work and inserts helped too. I hope you enjoy the conclusion.

RCJ

"And so our mothers and grandmothers have, more often than not anonymously, handed on the creative spark, the seed of the flower they themselves never hoped to see -- or like a sealed letter they could not plainly read." **-**Alice Walker

Jim Murphy opened the door to the small room off Mr. Reynolds's office and stepped inside. The two hour drive had given him far too much time to stew, so the three sets of innocent eyes had none of their usual effect. Jim would be the first to admit he tended to be overindulgent, but there were limits even to his patience.

Sam was the first to speak. He gave a halfhearted wave. "Hey, Pastor Jim."

"Samuel." Jim noticed the second grader was sitting closest to the door, paper and crayons in front of him.

The cleric shifted his gaze to Dean, who was beside his little brother, math book opened, pencil in hand, attempting what Jim deciphered as a contemplative look. "Dean, I would find it more believable that you were actually doing something constructive if the book wasn't upside down."

Dean tried for a smile. "My particular learning disorder works in strange and mysterious ways, Jim."

"You don't have a learning disorder," Jim quickly dismissed the teen's not so humorous quip.

"How's the parishioner?" Caleb asked. The eldest of the Musketeers was across from Dean, ice pack held over his knuckles. He gave the preacher a sheepish smile. "I hope this doesn't mean she croaked."

"Your concern is touching." Jim moved across the room to stand in front of Dean. He reached out and lifted the teen's chin, getting a better look at his bruised face. He looked the worst of the three. Jim let him go with a sad shake of his head. "You're also lucky she made a miraculous recovery. Evidently all she wanted was a bit of attention. I think you all can understand that."

Caleb rolled his eyes. "Yeah, because we're obviously acting out."

Jim sent him a disapproving scowl. Sometimes he wondered if Caleb would get through his adolescence before Dean became completely immersed in his. Honestly, Jim wasn't sure if The Triad could deal with more than one teenager at a time. "I take it the police car outside is waiting for you?"

"Caleb's going to prison?" Sam cried.

"Is that true?" Dean looked to Caleb. "Is that what Reynolds talked to you about?"

Jim watched the carefree smile slide into place as Caleb tossed the ice pack aside. It didn't surprise him the older boy had spared the other two that bit of information. Mr. Reynolds had informed him over the phone that Caleb convinced the officer to let him stay until someone else could come for the boys. "It's no big deal," Caleb said. "And it's county jail, Runt. Nothing like prison."

"But your brain will shrivel up like a stone," Sam said. "I don't want you to go."

Caleb reached across the table and bumped his fist against Dean's hand. "Deuce, tell your little brother I'll be out in no time. Jim won't let the future Knight rot in prison."

Dean slouched further in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He bit his lip, not replying, but Jim noticed the teen's face had reddened, his green eyes growing brighter than usual.

The pastor exhaled heavily, leaning on the table. Despite the circumstances he was reminded how vulnerable his charges could be. "My boys, I think I may be able to spare your 'uncle' a trip to the big house _and_ prevent Dean's expulsion if only one of you would care to explain how a simple disagreement between two second-graders turned into a cafeteria free for all." Jim had yet to be informed of the details.

"The food fight was not our fault," Caleb said. "I'm guessing those kids were just waiting for a reason to revolt against your Highness Hitler. She got everything she deserved."

"It's my fault," Dean said.

"No, it isn't," Caleb countered. "I knew better."

"But I started it," Sam looked up at the preacher. "I lost my cool, Pastor Jim. I should have turned the other cheek and let God smite Gregory."

Jim fought hard to keep the smile from his face at Sam's earnest confession and literal interpretation of Bible verse. "I agree that you did not show the greatest restraint, Samuel, but I'm more concerned about what took place with Gregory's father." The pastor turned his gaze on the two older boys.

"Caleb only hit the guy once," Dean defended. "It wasn't his fault the Hulk Hogan wannabe had a glass jaw."

"Don't help me, Deuce."

Jim ran a hand through his silver hair. A part of him was deeply touched by the way the boys were protecting one another. It heartened him to see his future Triad work together, but in spite of their prospective positions, possibly because of them, he could not let the boys think that careless actions were without consequence. "Caleb should not have hit anyone, especially on school property."

"But Caleb doesn't like it when people say bad things about me and Dean." Sam pleaded. "It's a brother thing."

Jim looked at Caleb. "What did Cory's father say to you?"

Caleb cut his gaze to Dean, glanced to Sam. "Just the usual crap."

"That doesn't give me much to go on."

"It's not going to save you from the chair," Sam said.

Dean banged his fist on the table. "He said it was a good thing our mom was dead." The teen's voice trembled with barely controlled emotion and Jim's resolve wavered. "He called her trash and said we were the result of bad breeding, like a bunch of mutts. They were laughing at us, laughing about our mom being dead."

"That's not what he meant." Caleb shook his head. "That bastard was just blowing off steam. He doesn't have a clue about you or Sammy."

"Then why did you go after him like that?"

"I wasn't thinking. Like Sammy said, I lost my cool." Caleb glanced up at Jim, quirked his lip. "My faith in God's shit list isn't that great either."

Dean quickly swiped at a tear that breached his hard fought defenses. "God punishes the wrong people all the damn time."

"My boy." Jim knelt in front of the teen, placed a hand on his knee. "God has little to do with punishment." He cut his gaze to Caleb. "Or cosmic checks and balances. His role is one of forgiveness, not retribution."

"Then why is there a Hell?" Sam asked. "Isn't that where God sends bad people?"

Jim was spared the impossible reply by a knock at the door. Mr. Reynolds stuck his head inside. "Mr. Murphy, Officer Mendez and I can speak with you now."

"I'll be right out." Jim stood. "Any last words before I go."

"Talk to Katie," Caleb said. "She'll explain everything."

_RcJSnsnsnsnsNRcJ_

Jim's meeting with Principal Reynolds and Officer Mendez ended with Dean serving an in school suspension of three days and sitting out the next baseball game. Sammy would not be allowed to participate in recess for a week. Making an arrangement regarding Caleb was difficult, but inventive, although Caleb hadn't appreciated the creativeness. He would be building new pantry shelves for Stella, the cafeteria director. All in all, it could have been worse.

The boys were expecting worse. Jim had remained quiet during dinner; the boys avoided any conversation pertaining to the school. He wasn't planning their demise, as he imagined they assumed if their atypical contrite behavior was any indication. On the contrary, Jim believed Caleb, Dean and Samuel had suffered enough punishment for a lifetime. It worried him how they all had acted impulsively, but it wasn't unusual since base emotions were involved. Jim's only mission was to spare them further harm. He wanted them to be happy.

The pastor brought Scout with him upstairs, allowing the dog to jump into Caleb's bed, and lick the college student's face. He watched as Caleb groaned, smiling. He wasn't above a modicum of harmless retribution. Caleb cracked an eye open before shoving Scout's head away from his face as he tried unsuccessfully to burrow deeper under his quilts.

"Rise and shine, my boy! You'll get nowhere moving that slow."

"That's good because I really have no place to be at…" Caleb turned towards the alarm clock. "Six forty-five on a Saturday morning."

"I would have to disagree with that." Jim leaned over the psychic's bed, jerking the covers away. "Breakfast will be ready in five minutes, I'm counting on you to get the boys up and inform them of our trip."

"Trip?"

"Yes." Jim smiled. He had planned it during dinner, and was glad the boys had gone to bed early. "We're going hiking."

"Hiking?" Caleb moaned. "Couldn't we just walk out back to the woodshed and get it over with."

"I don't deal in that kind of punishment, my boy."

"Right. This is about forgiveness."

"In a way." Jim's voice faltered for a moment as he thought about the significance of the place he was taking them. "That is exactly what this is about."

Confident Caleb was up for the task Jim went to check the animals in the barn. Returning, he heard Dean's voice from the screened porch, eaves dropping on the familiar exchange before going in.

"Why do we have to go on a stupid hike? I hate the woods," Dean said.

"I like the woods," Sam spoke up. "Maybe we'll see a bear."

"That's not funny."

"It was kind of funny," Caleb replied. "Maybe we should take some honey just in case."

Jim didn't know when Dean had gained his phobia about bears or why, but he entered the house clearing his throat as he saw Dean was in the midst of a outlawed hand gesture to Caleb. "I see everyone is back to behaving as usual this morning?" He took in the disgruntled shrugs as he strapped on his pack, handing off some extra supplies to Caleb. "Would you be so kind to carry these, my boy?"

Caleb looked at Dean. Jim had handed him a collapsible shovel and box of fertilizer. "Uhh…only if I can ask what these are for."

"You 'may' ask, but I would rather it be a surprise." The boys often saw him as a doting grandfather; sometimes it was fun to act the part of the devious Guardian.

"We don't like surprises," Dean replied.

"I like surprises," Sam countered.

"Then you go with Jim and Damien and I will stay here and hold down the farm."

"We're all going," Jim smiled. "And a good time will be had by all." He took Sam's hand and started for the door, Atticus Finch and Scout in tow.

"Are we there yet?" Sam asked for at least the tenth time and Jim worked hard to ignore the eight-year-old, whistling as he forged ahead up the rugged trail.

"We should be in Tennessee by now," Dean muttered. "Maybe even North Carolina."

"We're still in Kentucky, my boy." Jim kept moving, glancing over his shoulder. He knew the trail by heart. "It's not much further now."

"That's what you said two hours ago." Dean wiped a hand across his forehead. "I think I would rather have mucked the horse stalls."

"Careful what you wish for, Deuce. He's probably saving that for after the forced march."

Jim kept attuned to the conversation behind him as he absorbed the beauty around them. It was a perfect May morning, crisp and cool, not a cloud in the sky. Emma would have loved it.

"But Scout's hungry," Sam whined.

The Black Labrador had her nose to the ground the entire trip, rooting under piles of dead leaves and tangled tree limbs. "Some poor squirrel is going to pay the ultimate price."

Caleb laughed and Jim cast a glance heavenward. "Sammy, when have you known Scout to catch anything but a baseball and on a lucky day her own tail. She's not exactly a credit to her breed."

"She's a Black Labrador Retriever, the best hunting dog ever!"

"I don't know about that," Dean said. "But Atticus Finch might nab us a couple of cute baby bunny rabbits. We could cook us up a stew."

Jim glanced down to the Golden Retriever padding along at his side and warm brown eyes gazed up at him in what Jim imagined was a guilt-ridden grimace. It had been last spring when Atticus playfully dragged in Bunnicula as a gift for the boys. Sam was not impressed with the injured baby rabbit, but rather traumatized by its plight.

"Maybe Scout will scare up a bear and the bear will make a meal out of you," Sam said.

"There aren't any bears in these woods. Right, Jim?"

Jim stopped, leaning on his walking stick. "On the contrary. I've spotted quite a few black bears on this very mountain."

Atticus whined, but Jim felt little shame in lying to the older Winchester. After all, Dean was merciless when it came to dishing out his fair share of teasing.

Jim watched as Caleb elbowed Dean. "Maybe we could check out a few caves on the way back down."

"Maybe you won't be coming back down, Damien. " Dean gestured to the shovel handle sticking out of Caleb's pack. "Jim holds you ultimately responsible. He probably brought me and Sammy along to help dig the grave."

Caleb shoved Dean. "I've seen you dig. Jim didn't bring enough food for an overnight stay."

Dean punched him. "I can work circles around you."

Jim sighed at the typical horseplay and carried on, grinning to himself as Samuel offered his own theories on the need for a shovel.

"Maybe we're digging mushrooms or roots to make root beer? We could be digging a foxhole?"

Caleb snorted. "A foxhole?"

"Dad makes us when we're on maneuvers."

Jim frowned with a shake of his head. The Knight was an enigma at times.

"I don't think Pastor Jim brought us up here to play war," Dean said.

"Why did he bring us here?" Sam asked wearily.

"For this." Jim stopped suddenly, turning to face the boys. The sweet scent of new blooms tickled his nose.

Caleb propped his hands on his hips, looking around them. "We have trees on the farm."

"There is more here than meets the eye." Jim thought it ironic that he had told Principal Reynolds and Officer Mendez the very same thing concerning the boys. What they saw as opposition and defiance, Jim recognized as survival. Protectiveness was ingrained by circumstance, as was fierceness and unyielding loyalty. He motioned for the three to follow, pushing through a stand of spruce and fir.

"Wow." Sam had moved to his side. "Is this what Heaven looks like?"

The pastor smiled, inhaling deeply. "I like to think so." Not more than ten yards before them nature opened up like a grand ballroom. A sprawling mass of wildflowers ran the length of a football field. From crimson red and flamingo pink to canary yellow and sky blue, the blossoms were various shapes and sizes fanning out in a sea of waving colors. Jim's chest tightened, his eyes stinging.

"Cool," Dean said with a hint of awe Jim hadn't heard from the teen in a while. "It's like a secret garden."

Jim nodded, squeezing his shoulder. "A secret I haven't shared with anyone in over twenty years, at least until now."

Scout took off in a sprint, sending a flock of yellow butterflies scattering about, which she took great joy in snapping at. Atticus yawned and sauntered towards a large single oak in the center of the field.

"It looks like a painting."

Jim glanced to Caleb. "Maybe you'll do one of it someday."

The twenty year-old shrugged off the suggestion, following after Atticus.

"Are we going to plant more flowers, Jim?" Sam asked. "Is that why you brought the shovel?"

"We're going to plant something even better." Jim motioned to the tree. "Come with me."

He led the boys to the strapping oak which stood nearly fifteen feet high. "This is what I wanted you to see."

Caleb and Dean exchanged a look and then Caleb cleared his throat. "We hiked to see an oak tree?"

Jim patted the bark. "Not just any tree. Emma's tree."

Sam gazed up at the expansive limbs covered in a coat of shiny green leaves. "Did Miss Emma plant this tree?"

"She did. We did," he corrected himself. "It was only a tiny sapling when we brought it up here." Jim slid out of his pack, dropping it gently to the ground. "It was the spring before she died. I like to think she wanted to leave something behind. A living thing that could take strong roots, reach for the sky, a testament that she had once been here. "

When neither boy said anything Jim bent down and began unloading his bag. "After she was gone, it took a while for me to work up the courage to come back here." He took out three brown paper packages and spread them on the ground. "And when I did I came with every intention to cut the damn thing down."

"Why would you do that?" Sam asked, softly.

"Because I was angry, Samuel. Angry at Emma for leaving me behind. And more than a little mad at God for taking the person I loved most in the world."

"What stopped you?" Dean asked.

"Nothing at first." Jim rocked back on his heels, pointing to an ugly gash in the tree's bark. "I took a couple of good swings at her. Then I remembered the way Emma looked when she studied our finished work that day. The loving way she touched each tiny leaf before we took our leave. She put a part of herself into that tree, and I just didn't have it in me to lose one more piece of her. "

Sam studied the tree in grave seriousness for a moment, before lifting his face to Jim's once more. "Do you think Dad remembers the way my Mom looked at me?" he asked.

Jim smiled. Sam's ability to see beyond the surface amazed him. He cupped the boy's cheek. "My dear child, I'm sure he thinks about it every day."

"I'm surprised the tree didn't die." Caleb said. He kept one hand on Dean's shoulder, but used his other to trace over the deep scoring. "You damaged it pretty good."

"I imagine Miss Emma had something to do with that."

"Her heart made it strong," Sam said.

"That's right, my boy." Jim removed his touch, winking at him. He glanced to Caleb. "The love always tells."

"Principal Reynolds told you," Caleb said.

"He did." Jim nodded, returning his eyes to Sam. "And Katie filled me in on the rest. Speaking of which, she gave me this." Jim reached into his pack and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper. "I thought you might like to have it back."

Sam took the card and carefully unfolded it. "Thanks."

"What is it?" Dean looked over his little brother's shoulder.

Sam pulled the picture to his chest. "Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing."

"It's just a stupid card."

"On the contrary," Jim opened the paper bags, revealing three small saplings. "I thought it was a lovely drawing."

"It's not very good." Sam met the preacher's gaze. "I don't really remember what she looks like."

"Like who looks like?" Dean asked.

"I believe you got the hair and eyes just right."

Sam smiled. "That's because Daddy says they were like Dean's."

Dean blew out a heavy breath. "You drew a picture of Mom."

"Don't be mad. It was for school."

"But I told your teacher…"

"Ms. Karen didn't make me." Sam thrust the card towards his brother. "No one made me. It's her day. I wanted to do something for her."

"Sammy, she's dead. She's not here."

"But a part of her is. We're what she left behind. ."

"And what an amazing legacy for her to leave." Jim stood, carefully cradling the young plants. "As incredible as the one Amelia Reaves left." He cut his gaze to Caleb, who glanced away. "I know I have enjoyed the fruits of their labor, just as I have enjoyed watching Emma's tree grow. As long as you boys are here, your mothers are never truly gone.

"Does Daddy know that?"

"Sure he does, Sammy." Jim was pleased when Dean stepped forward and squeezed his brother's shoulder. "That's why he works so hard to protect us."

"Can we go now?" Caleb asked.

Jim frowned. "I thought we would have a picnic lunch and then perhaps plant a few more trees to keep Emma's company. It can be our family garden." It wasn't as if Jim could give the boys what they truly needed, but it seemed a way to somehow make a painful day easier.

The twenty-year-old shook his head. "I'd rather not."

"I'll help you," Sam said. "You can make a card too. I brought crayons."

Caleb knelt in front of the little boy. "How about you and Deuce plant mine for me, Sammy? You make a card too."

"But I don't know what your mom looked like?"

"Wing it." Caleb ruffled his hair. "I take after my mom too."

"My boy…" Jim started as Caleb stood and removed the shovel from his pack. "I didn't mean…"

"I'll see you guys back at the farm." He handed the tool to the pastor and grinned. "Someone has to muck those horse stalls."

"What about the bears, Damien?" Dean asked.

"Don't worry your pretty little head, Princess." Caleb shoved him. "I'll stay out of the caves."

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. "Take Atticus, just in case."

"In case I'm attacked by a pack of rabbits?"

"No. In case you get lost. You're not exactly Daniel Boone."

"Funny."

"I thought so."

"Don't feel bad, Jim. Damien just needs to brood." Dean stepped beside the pastor as they watched Caleb and Atticus go. "It's not so much about his mom, but what his dad might have left behind."

Jim looked at the teen, pained by the fact Dean was every bit as insightful as his brother when it came to seeing past the surface but heartened that Dean was attempting to make him feel better. Still, failure tore at his soul. "If I could make things different for all of you, I would."

"But you can't, Merlin." Dean smiled. "What you can do is feed us before your sappy Arbor Day project." The teen took a deep inhale, patting his stomach. "Fried chicken and apple pie, I believe."

"We're having chicken and apple pie?" Sam crowed. Scout barked. "Yes!"

Jim sighed, shaking his head. "Is there nothing I can keep for a surprise?"

"Not around Dean. He has Daddy's nose."

Jim rubbed a hand over the teen's hair, pulling him in for a quick hug. "And his mother's heart."

RCJ

May 2008

Happy Mother's Day!


End file.
